


Nothing to be nervous about

by Lemurafraidofthunder



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Suit Porn, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemurafraidofthunder/pseuds/Lemurafraidofthunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is speaking at a scientific conference and maybe he's a little nervous about it, but how can he be when his boyfriends are so supporting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing to be nervous about

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarahyyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/gifts).



> Okay, this is a birthday something for [Sarah](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com) (because apparently the only thing you have to do for me to write you fic is to complain about the lack of fic for a ship and mention your birthday is coming up) and it was supposed to just be fluff. Well, it escalated... Happy birthday and hope you enjoy! :)

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t get changed soon, you know,” Grantaire says, leaning his elbows on the back of the desk chair Enjolras is currently sitting in. Still sitting in even though he should have been out of it half an hour ago and not a suit like Grantaire already is. “Combeferre is not going to like that.”  
  
“I just have to finish this… it’s important,” Enjolras mutters while he’s types away furiously. “Where is he even? Combeferre, that is.”  
  
“Oh, he’s pacing the kitchen convincing himself that he’s going to forget his speech if he doesn’t repeat a few hundred times more.”  
  
“He should know better than that,” Enjolras comments and there’s a scrunching of his nose. “It doesn’t do much good to cram in the last minute. The brain doesn’t work that way.”  
  
“Like you’re doing just now?” Grantaire teases and tugs on a blond curl. At least he doesn’t have to worry about Enjolras having to shower as well because then they would definitely be late.  
  
“That’s not the point,” Enjolras scoffs, “besides, he already knows it by heart and it’s not like he doesn’t know everything worth knowing on this subject.”  
  
“You might even call him an expert?” Grantaire jokes. “But seriously, it’s like 18:47 and we have to be out by–“  
  
“It’s what–?” Enjolras snaps his head up to look at the clock. “Oh shit.” There’s a sharp sound when the laptop is slammed shut and Enjolras is out of the chair immediately.  
  
“I put out your suit on the bed,” Grantaire calls when Enjolras disappears into their bedroom in seconds flat. He chuckles under his breath when there’s a indistinguishable noise that might have been thankful from the other room. Letting Enjolras deal with the changing of clothes himself—the man can actually dress with crazy efficiency which is maybe a necessary result of him always forgetting the time—Grantaire decides that maybe he should check on the probably nerve wracked Combeferre in the kitchen. After all, it’s his night tonight and Enjolras only has to throw on a suit that’s already laid out for him down to the socks. Before he does move out of the office though, Grantaire just opens the laptop to make sure that the file Enjolras was working on has in fact been saved. Enjolras has the habit of just shutting the computer like that when he’s in a hurry with no thought for what he’s working on. And sometimes even the autosaving programs he has for exactly that reason can’t keep up with him. Satisfied that nothing has been lost, Grantaire shuts the computer down the proper way and closes it and then he’s ready to go take care of case #2.  
  
When Grantaire enters the kitchen, Combeferre is not so much pacing the floor anymore as he’s just standing in the middle of the room fully dressed in a nice suit and a bowtie that only he can pull off. He’s facing Grantaire with his back to a shitload of papers and mumbling through almost closed lips but his eyes are closed. This gives Grantaire the opportunity of just leaning against the doorframe and appreciating the sight of one of his boyfriends he doesn’t notice Grantaire until he hears the ruffling of the papers that Grantaire is picking up from the floor. There are practically papers everywhere, on the counter, the floor and even a few on one of the chairs. Many more than Combeferre’s speech should take up.  
  
“Did you print two copies?” Grantaire asks as he stacks the papers together and Combeferre turns to him with a sheepish smile.  
  
“For good luck?” he suggests and when Grantaire just raises an eyebrow he continues, “alright I was afraid that I’d lose one of the pages. This way if I lose one, I can just use the other one.”  
  
“You also have an unnecessary amount of paper that will probably just make it even more messy and complicated,” Grantaire states, “besides, don’t try to tell me you haven’t memorized every single word of it and their synonyms.” He puts the papers down on the counter in a neat stack and move closer to put a hand on Combeferre’s arm. It travels up to the back of his neck where he is tense as hell and when he digs his fingers into the muscle Combeferre whimpers softly. Guided by Grantaire’s hands he turns around so Grantaire can work his magic. Letting his thumbs knead the tension away Grantaire lightly presses a kiss to the base of Combeferre’s neck. He’s already visibly loosening up.  
  
“You’re not really nervous about forgetting the words are you?” Grantaire asks because he has a feeling that just that isn’t the reason for the nerves. Combeferre does know that he knows his stuff through and through and he’s usually not prone to worrying this much anyway. Grantaire can feel the entirety of Combeferre’s upper body heave when he sighs as if he’s letting out all the air in the earth’s atmosphere.  
  
“What if they don’t like it?” Combeferre worries, “I mean, it’s rather specific and niche things I speak about.”  
  
“Ferre, listen here,” Grantaire says “you made me actually both understand and find it very interesting and I’m pretty sure I’ll be the stupidest person in the room.” This at least catches Combeferre’s undecided attention. He turns around under Grantaire’s hands that fall away from his shoulders.  
  
“That’s not even close to true, Grantaire,” Combeferre insists as he puts a hand on Grantaire’s arm, “and you know it. You’re one of the most intelligent people I know.”  
  
“I know,” Grantaire says and it’s a vaguely nice feeling to be able to say that with as much confidence as he does. He hasn’t always been able to do that. And so, he finds the serious look on Combeferre’s face both a little ridiculous and very “But you know, I got your attention away from worrying over your speech. So I’m counting as a success.”  
  
“But still, it’s not like it’s the most common thing. I’m talking about transverse orientation and the evolutionary effect human built lights will have on moths in the future.”  
  
“Who’s talking about transverse orientation?” Enjolras asks as he emerges from the bedroom dressed to the nines in the dark grey three-piece suit Grantaire chose for him and a loose tie around his neck. It’s maybe a little more formal than what this calls for, but Grantaire isn’t going to miss a chance to see his boyfriend in a set of clothes that turns him in to the undoubtably hottest person in the world. Apparently Combeferre is just as appreciative of the suit in question because stares at Enjolras, for a moment apparently forgetting that he’s nervous or that they are in a hurry.  
  
“This guy, I don’t know who he is, some key note speaker at the yearly butterfly and other creeps convention,” Grantaire says and puts an arm around Combeferre’s waist and tugs at him to indicate who he’s talking about.  
  
“That’s not what it’s called,” Combeferre protests but his protest is as lighthearted as the chuckle he lets out.  
  
“In my head it is,” Grantaire says and points to his own head, “you know not that sharp up here.” For a second it looks like Enjolras wants to protest—probably mostly out of habit and because he doesn’t get the reference from just a minute ago—but Combeferre interrupts him before he can say anything.  
  
“But speaking of that, we probably can’t stretch the time any further if we don’t want to be horribly late,” he says and nods at Enjolras’ untied tie. “So if you’ll finish off, I’ll go down and hail a cab.”  
  
“Oh, I just–“ Enjolras looks down as if it hasn’t even occurred to him that he isn’t completely finished dressing himself and smiles sheepishly, “I kind of had to hurry.” He starts to fumble with the tie before Grantaire steps in to rescue him.  
  
“Here, let me,” he says and brushes Enjolras’ fingers away and takes hold of the tie. Directed at Combeferre he says, “You can go ahead down for that cab, we’ll be there in a minute.” Combeferre nods and gives them both a kiss on the cheek before he leaves the apartment.  
  
“He didn’t seem that nervous,” Enjolras comments after the door has closed as he conveniently lets his hands rest on Grantaire’s hips.  
  
“I just work magic like that,” Grantaire grins and puts the finishing touch on the tie, “and like this. Now you’re perfect.”  
  
“Whatever would we do without you?” Enjolras laughs and tugs him in by the waist for something between a kiss and light touching of their foreheads.  
  
“You’d be late and too much of a nervous wreck to have anything to be late for,” Grantaire replies and he’s sure all the fondness he feels channels through those words. “Which reminds me that we should go now. No more dawdling.” He turns to see the papers he so neatly stacked still lying there on the counter apparently forgotten by Combeferre. Combeferre, who’ll probably get all nervous and rigid again if he doesn’t bring those papers that are mostly unnecessary, so Grantaire slips out of Enjolras’ embrace to pick them up. They’re all in the wrong order since they where scattered everywhere and also the fact that there are two copies doesn’t help. But it’ll let Combeferre have something to do during the ride to calm his nerves.  
  
“Do you think the man knows the concept of _key cards_?” Enjolras asks in an amused tone and nods toward the papers. “I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to gain having those papers with him. He knows it by heart anyway.”  
  
“That’s what I told him,” Grantaire says as he goes back to Enjolras with the papers in hand, “but if we don’t bring them to him, it’s both our heads off.”  
  
“‘Ferre would never be angry at us for that,” Enjolras says and his hand finds Grantaire’s free one to drag him out the door.  
  
“Does that mean I should throw them away now?” Grantaire asks and crooks one eyebrow.  
  
“Not in a million years,” Enjolras laughs and the head down to meet Combeferre and hand him the speech he already knows forwards and backwards.  
  
  
“I’m really proud of him right now,” Enjolras says as they watch Combeferre make small nods to the applauding audience before he slips from the speaker’s podium.  
  
“Me too,” Grantaire agrees, “do you think he knows?”  
  
“I do think so,” Enjolras replies and then turns his face to Grantaire, “but maybe we should make sure of it.” Grantaire looks at Enjolras for a moment, seeing a mischievous smile on his face that can only mean one thing. He raises one eyebrow and it’s both a challenge and an agreement.  
  
“I can think of a few ways to show him,” Grantaire says and at this moment Combeferre has made his way back to the place where they’re sitting in the audience.  
  
“Show who what?” he asks and looks sort of dazed when he sits down in the empty seat between them. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as if he’s been holding his breath ever since he stepped up to start his speech.  
  
“Oh nothing you have to worry about,” Enjolras says and grabs hold of Combeferre’s hand on his side. He turns it over and traces his fingers across the palm and fingers as if he’s studying it before he slots his own fingers in between in a tight entwine. “You were really good up there, you know.” Combeferre smiles and relaxes a tiny bit, but the tension from the nervousness is still lingering somewhat.  
  
“Thanks, I didn’t speak to fast or stumble over the words too much?” he asks and Grantaire chooses that moment to put his hand on the back of Combeferre’s neck digging a thumb into the tense muscles a bit like he did earlier in the kitchen of their apartment. It works this time too, because Combeferre closes his eyes and lean into it.  
  
“You were perfect,” Grantaire practically hums into Combeferre’s ear, lips brushing the shell of his ear ever so slightly. “In fact… we both think so.” He can’t really see it, but Grantaire has the feeling Enjolras is leaning in to whisper in Combeferre’s other ear. When he hears the fragments of a sentence he knows he’s right.  
  
“…What…want to do…us” are some of the words Enjolras says and Combeferre tenses again, only this is another kind of tension entirely. Grantaire laughs, small huffs of air, into Combeferre’s short dark hair and tries for a continuation of what Enjolras said. It’s not that hard to guess along what lines the sentence went.  
  
“For example, don’t you just want to _peel_ that three-piece suit of his body?” Grantaire breathes into Combeferre’s ear and the reaction is immediate. Snapping his eyes open Combeferre turns his face to Grantaire, cheeks reddening slightly.  
  
“I didn’t make him wear it for it’s practicality,” Grantaire points out but everyone in the room should know that. Enjolras speaks again but this time Grantaire can’t make out any of his words. It’s probably for the better because if he could hear it, then maybe someone else could and judging by the way Combeferre’s breath hitches it’s not something they want others to hear.  
  
“Did he tell you how,” Grantaire starts, pulling out a scenario from the top of his head, “he wants you to fuck him senseless?”  
  
“Um, something like that,” Combeferre mutters and swallows. Grantaire takes this moment to lay his free hand on Combeferre’s thigh. Not too high to be completely indecent if someone saw, but high enough for it to be something more than friendly.  
  
“When is the earliest we can leave?” he asks because as much as likes the idea of teasing, he’d much rather actually get to do those things they’re talking about.  
  
“Uh, there’s still the chairman’s speech but I think–“ Combeferre shifts under Grantaire’s hand, “I think we can slip out after that without it being—oh—rude.” Grantaire can still hear Enjolras murmuring what is without a doubt very filthy things so he supposes that’s what distracting Combeferre so much. That, and his hands still on his neck and thigh of course.  
  
“Is it long?”  
  
“ _What?!_ ” Combeferre squeaks and Grantaire chuckles because he sounds properly scandalized.  
  
“The speech,” he clarifies.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“What did you think I was talking about?” Grantaire says and smirks at him.  
  
“Uh nothing,” Combeferre hurries to say, “it’s just Enjolras said…” He stops short of saying just what Enjolras has said to him. But it must be good.  
  
“What did Enjolras say?”  
  
“I don’t think I can repeat that right here,” Combeferre mutters and Grantaire can feel the shiver that goes up his spine in his hand on the neck.  
  
“So about that speech?” Grantaire says and almost absentmindedly chases that shiver with one light finger.  
  
“It shouldn’t be long.”  
  
“Good,” says Grantaire, “cause I don’t know what ideas Enjolras is feeding you but I think I’ll like them. No need to wait too long to find out.”  
  
“You will,” Combeferre lets out, “like them, I mean.”  
  
“Hm, I’m leaning towards that you’re right,” Grantaire hums thoughtfully, “after all Enjolras does get the _best_ ideas, doesn’t he?” In the corner of his eye and mind Grantaire notices that the guy who must be the chairman with his damned speech walks up to the podium. He starts speaking, but his words aren’t near as interesting as Combeferre’s were or as Combeferre is just now.  
  
“I just hope he doesn’t take all evening,” Grantaire says.  
  
  
He doesn’t take all evening, in fact the speech that is mostly superfluously about scientific society takes only about fifteen minutes. Once the applaud starts there is some movement in the crowd as some people take this as their cue to leave. Combeferre does the same, taking Grantaire’s hand—he’s still entwined with Enjolras with the other—and pulling them with him to the exit. Grantaire shares a very smug look with Enjolras who’s lower lip is already reddened—probably from biting it while feeding explicit words into Combeferre’s ear and mind. Then he catches up with Combeferre and with the speed he shoots they’re out on the street in a moment.  
  
“Cab or–?”  
  
“Cab,” Combeferre says firmly before Enjolras can finish the question and stalks to the side of the street to hail one. Now that they’re out of a place where Combeferre had to keep his cool so as to not attract attention, his demeanor has changed completely. He’s no longer the squeaking mess they made of him, but the one making the decisions and taking control.  
  
“It seems we have woken something in him,” Enjolras laughs and tugs at Grantaire’s waist. He places that red mouth right on Grantaire’s and takes to nibbling on one of those lips.  
  
“Just what did you say to him?” Grantaire asks after he pulls away a little. He can’t claim that he’s not just a little curious.  
  
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Enjolras says poking Grantaire on the nose and Grantaire is just about to retort when he’s interrupted.  
  
“You two!” Combeferre calls from where he’s opening the door of a cab, ”are you coming or what?”  
  
“We can’t let him wait, not after what we put him through, I think,” Grantaire says and they hurry to the car.  
  
“Third wheeling, huh?” Grantaire just hears the driver say sympathetically to Combeferre before Enjolras and he spill into the cab together. Enjolras practically lands on Combeferre since there isn’t much space in the backseat of a car with three people there. Combeferre catches him and puts an arm around him to conserve space and he gets a big wet kiss from Enjolras in return. When the driver sees this through the rearview mirror he doesn’t say anymore. Combeferre and Enjolras break it up and they all silently seem to agree to take pity on the man and keep it decent after that. It isn’t a long trip home and they have already made it this far, so they can mange a little longer. Combeferre keeps his arm where it is however, and Enjolras catches Grantaire’s hand in his own.  
  
  
When they get through the door to the apartment—after having left the poor cab driver with a generous tip—Grantaire doesn’t get a moment to breathe before Combeferre is there crowding against him and kissing him thoroughly. His hands are everywhere at once as if to return the favor from before and Grantaire practically melts.  
  
“I’ll just be in the bedroom when you two are ready,” Enjolras announces with apparent indifference and when Grantaire breaks away to look at him he sees Enjolras sauntering down the hall while slowly unbuttoning his cuffs.  
  
“No, no I’m not gonna miss that,” Grantaire says and pulls Combeferre with him rather than out of his embrace, “I chose the suit, so I get to see it come off.” They both stumble in after Enjolras and break apart when Grantaire grabs onto Enjolras and Combeferre continues to the bed.  
  
“What about you do the work for him and then I’ll be right here, enjoying the view,” Combeferre says, making himself comfortable on their large bed.  
  
“I’m not completely averse to that idea,” Enjolras says and leans closer to Grantaire, “but you’ll have to free my arms.” He looks down to where Grantaire is gripping around his wrists as if to stop him from undressing himself further. Maybe that was his intent, but now he doesn’t need it, so Grantaire lets go and smirks.  
  
“My pleasure,” he says and glances at Combeferre before putting his hands inside the collar of Enjolras jacket on those muscles that are neither neck nor shoulder. Sliding outwards, his hands push the smooth fabric down over Enjolras’ shoulders and from there it takes only a small gesture before the jacket falls to the ground with a soft hiss and thump. Next is the tie, the one Grantaire tied himself earlier when they had to hurry. Now is another matter entirely. He takes his time nudging the knot free while he peppers Enjolras’ face with kisses making his way across the jaw and down to his Adam’s apple. Just as he reaches the collar he simultaneously pulls the tie free and licks a stripe up Enjolras’ throat. He can literally feel groan against his tongue and he doesn’t need to look at Combeferre to know that his every move is followed by an intent gaze.  
  
“Are you planning on doing this all night?” Grantaire hears Enjolras ask from above and the strain in his voice is evident. It says _hurry a bit up_ so Grantaire of course does the opposite. He straightens and curls two fingers in the opening of Enjolras’ waistcoat and pulling him in for a slow languid kiss that has no promise of hurry.  
  
“You can’t rush the artist,” Grantaire mumbles into his mouth.  
  
“This is hardly a form of art,” Enjolras huffs but Grantaire puts a finger to his lips.  
  
“I’m pretty sure that the viewer in this instance gets to decide whether it’s art or not,” Grantaire says and looks to Combeferre who has indeed his eyes trailed on them, “what do you say ‘Ferre?”  
  
“Art,” he says simply and Grantaire grins at Enjolras.  
  
“Now let me have my way,” he says and plays with a button on the waistcoat, “unless of course I don’t have your consent for that.” He lets a smirk play on his lips. “After all, consent is important.”  
  
“Of course you have it,” Enjolras all but whines, “I just wish you’d go a little faster.”  
  
“Maybe we can be a little more accommodating for you then,” Grantaire says and makes quick work of the buttons on the waistcoat. “We don’t want to bore you.” Before he’s even finished speaking, it falls to the floor. Grantaire then guides Enjolras to sit on the edge of the bed, next to Combeferre. Without making a show out of it he gets shoes and socks of all three of them and for a moment he deliberates on staying down on his knees for the next part or getting up to eye level. Enjolras shifts in his pants which are getting progressively tighter and makes up his mind for him. Staying it is. Crawling into the space Enjolras has made by spreading his legs Grantaire slides his hands along Enjolras’ thighs to the fly of his pants, thumbing gently there, earning a hiss from above, and then continues up. The unsatisfied whine is positively gorgeous and apparently Combeferre is done just watching because he swallows up the last bit of that whine in a kiss.  
  
Grinning at the two of them even though they aren’t currently looking his way, Grantaire reaches up and starts unbuttoning the white shirt. They’re almost finished, the shirt being one of the last pieces of clothing, so he takes his time again, safe in the knowledge that Enjolras is far too busy to complain. As soon as the first few buttons are gone, Combeferre lets one hand roam underneath the shirt, pushing it open and tracing over skin. This was definitely not the worst idea ever, Grantaire thinks as he gets to the last button. He revels for a moment at the delicate fabric that still holds on for dear life in the last button even though there’s no illusion of decency for Enjolras in the shirt by now. Better get rid of it altogether because then there are only his pants and underwear left. And the whole intention of this endeavor is to get him out of these clothes. So Grantaire pops the last button, leaving it to Combeferre to do the rest, and leans forward until his nose bumps against that trail of blond hairs on Enjolras’ abdomen. Vaguely he senses Enjolras reaching for something and his hands being batted away with a low growl from Combeferre. He probably tried ridding someone else than himself of some clothes. He should know better, Grantaire thinks, but maybe it’s just because they have him on the edge of his patience with this whole undressing thing. Enjolras has never been a very patient man.  
  
“You two… you’ll be– the death of me,” Enjolras huffs out between kisses almost as if to prove Grantaire’s point.  
  
“If so, I’m sure it’ll be a very pleasant death,” Combeferre says back and finally pulls off the shirt completely, tossing it somewhere on the floor. Just at the same time, Grantaire goes to undo the fly and maybe he puts a little more pressure on than necessary just to hear Enjolras moan and make him raise his hips to seek that friction. In his defense, it’s a splendid moan. Taking pity on Enjolras he undoes the fly quickly and reaches behind him to at last get rid of the last pieces of clothing.  
  
“Up you go,” Grantaire says with his hands on Enjolras’ ass, fingers hooked the back of the pants and briefs. Enjolras obeys, hips jerking upward and Grantaire decides to indulge him by mouthing lightly at the clothed erection while he pulls down the fabric. He even does a little pleased hum when Enjolras stiffens which only leads to more moaning. Sitting back on his haunches he slowly pulls both pants and briefs off and down Enjolras legs until he’s completely freed of them.  
  
“Can we finally get to it?” Enjolras demands, squirming under the touch of Combeferre’s hands and his impatience.  
  
“What do you mean?” Combeferre says, feigned incredulity in his voice, “there’s both Grantaire and me to undress. Wouldn’t you think it was fair if we got the same attention?” Enjolras doesn’t answer except with a long whine as he falls back on the bed. Grantaire laughs at this and starts pulling off his clothes without any particular elegance.  
  
“I think we can skip that tonight,” he says and sends Combeferre a look, “after all I think Enjolras had some ideas earlier that we should try out.”  
  
“I asked him, if he’d let us take care of him,” Enjolras says from where he’s lying naked on the bed, following the efficient undressing they’re doing with his eyes. “If he’d be amenable to letting me ride him while you fucked him.” He says it without taking his eyes off them or moving and with a casual tone that only makes the words sound even filthier. Grantaire pulls off his shirt but his attention goes to Combeferre.  
  
“And would you?” he asks, his throat going a bit dry, because yeah he wouldn’t mind that too much. Combeferre looks up from where he’s undoing his own pants with as little grace as Grantaire. His eyes are dark when he nods.  
  
“I’d like to think I would,” he says and Grantaire can’t help but surge up to kiss Combeferre, crawling into his lap and straddling him.  
  
“Clothes. Off.” Enjolras interrupts by tugging at Grantaire’s pants and Combeferre breaks away. “Now.”  
  
“We’d best do what he says,” Combeferre chuckles, “he’s the one with the brilliant ideas after all.”  
  
“I suppose so,” Grantaire says and moves from Combeferre’s lap with a dramatic sigh.  
  
“I’ll get the lube and condoms,” Enjolras says and rolls over to the nightstand where they keep it. “Then you get out of those damn clothes.” They both oblige, pulling off what clothes remain and it it doesn’t take long. By the time Enjolras comes back with supplies, Grantaire has started kissing and biting his way over Combeferre’s neck and shoulders. He looks up to see Combeferre pull Enjolras in for a kiss and when Enjolras drops the stuff to fit his hands in Combeferre’s short hair, Grantaire sits back and grab the bottle of lube instead.  
  
“Lay down for me,” he says and flexes his hands before uncapping the bottle. “Then I’ll get both of you ready.” They do as he says, going from sitting entangled in each other, kissing, to doing the same just lying down.  
  
It doesn’t take long before they’re pretty much panting into each others’ mouths from his fingers stretching them open and just brushing past where they really want him to be. He’s tempted to keep going for just long enough to make them beg, but that isn’t really the goal for now. Grantaire pulls his fingers out and instead of lingering at the unhappy moans he tosses one condom in Combeferre’s direction and takes the other one himself. Before Combeferre can react though, Enjolras snatches it, rips open the package and, as the devil he is, rolls in on by putting his lips on Combeferre cock and pushing down. Grantaire can’t decide on whether he finds it hilarious or extremely hot but really, it can be both at the same time. In contrast, Enjolras doesn’t waste any time appreciating his own actions and positions himself, straddling just above Combeferre’s cock. He looks over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrows if asking him to get on with it before he starts lowering himself. Grantaire scrambles to do just that, pulling his own condom on without any show.  
  
“For someone so fond of teasing…” Combeferre groans when Enjolras is seated completely, “you’re not really that patient.”  
  
“Complaining?” Enjolras asks rolling his hips lightly to get his bearings or maybe just to drive Combeferre crazy.  
  
“N-not in my wildest dreams.” It comes out strangled and out of control, in a way Combeferre seldom is, and Grantaire thinks he wants to help with doing that. With his hands on the side of Combeferre’s he lines up with his entrance. He leans in to put his lips on Enjolras’ shoulder when he pushes in but also to see the look on Combeferre’s face. Slowly at first, he starts thrusting in and out in the same rhythm Enjolras moves in and from the sounds escaping Combeferre’s lips he does like their teamwork.  
  
“Just so you know,” Grantaire mumbles into Enjolras’ curls, “I think he can take more than that.” Enjolras turns his head to him only slightly panting still. He hasn’t done much more than roll his hips until now, but then again Grantaire has been going slow as well.  
  
“Is it a challenge?” he says with fire in his eyes and catches Grantaire’s lip between his teeth.  
  
“It might be,” Grantaire replies and in that moment Enjolras must do something real good that Grantaire can’t see because Combeferre moans beneath them and clenches so deliciously around Grantaire. Enjolras just looks smug. “Oh, it definitely is.”  
  
And with that they both pick up speed, Enjolras bracing himself with his hands on Combeferre’s chest as he starts riding him in earnest. Before too long Grantaire can feel the orgasm building up inside him but Enjolras and Combeferre beat him to it coming in rapid succession and driving him over the edge as well.  
  
When they’re all cleaned up—Grantaire was the only one not so fucked out he couldn’t stand on his legs and got the wet towel—and lying in a sweaty heap Combeferre is the one break the silence.  
  
“I should do public speaking more often.” Grantaire agrees wholeheartedly.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://lemurafraidofthunder.tumblr.com)


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